A Song 187

Peeling, 

chewing,

green peas, Basho.

........

A runny, old leaf of a nun,
sunned in an armchair,
below the Karuna banyan;
beside,
rested Lady, Old Man
ancienter than nun,
in arm chairs
offered by fresh leaf nuns;
psalms at a Mass
on Karuna Road,
of one-way human traffic,
two-way vehicular traffic.



.......

A train halted nowhere...
a November morning
bedded in clouds...
lanes of wrinkles
in white dhoti, kurta, turban
whiled in a charpoy
set in a sarson field ...
skins of roads,
in a green sari,
placed a plate of
rotis, sabji and tea.....
sat beside the old man...
father, husband, brother?
shared the food
with birds ..
a feeble sun bounced off
their toothy grins...
dazzled the train,
into a wheeling away...


.....

Chiyu sat down Aji;
diddering Aji hugged Chiyu;
Mornings at school,
a butterfly
lands on the window
beside Chiyu's desk,
when the maths class is on.
Whispering mutters,
riddles and diddles.
A morning
butterfly painted Chiyu
in her colours;
teacher noted it;
what's 2 plus 2 she asked Chiyu;
butterfly nodded 5;
Chiyu, blinded, offered 6.
Ordered out of class,
went for a fly;
the bell rang.
As Aji fed dal-roti to Chiyu,
the butterfly fluttered in,
and Aji lunched both.
Went for a swim
in the skies.
Time for the butterfly to bye.
Passed on her colours and wings
to Chiyu, school imprisoned,
leaving Aji in cries. 

.....